Chapter 1: The Whisper in the Dark The rain lashed against the windows of Blackthorn Manor like the fingers of a restless spirit, and Hercule Poirot adjusted his perfectly waxed mustache with a faint grimace. It was not the weather that displeased him—though, mon Dieu, it was dreary—but the summons that had dragged him from his cozy London flat to this forsaken corner of the English countryside. The telegram had been brief, urgent, and maddeningly vague: “Murder at Blackthorn. Voice of the dead speaks. Come at once. – Inspector Grayson.” Poirot stepped out of the motorcar, his polished shoes sinking slightly into the muddy gravel, and surveyed the manor.
enذكرفي منتصف العمرالتعليق الصوتيعميقدراميرواية القصصجادواضحSuspenseful
عام
منذ 8 أشهر
عينات
لا توجد عينات صوتية بعد